


The Last Dance, For Me

by Selene_Dreamwalker



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, Sadness, What Could Have Been
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selene_Dreamwalker/pseuds/Selene_Dreamwalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy still had contacts in S.H.E.I.L.D., of course she did. She'd been playing this game longer than a good number of them had been alive. So when the yearly expedition Howard Stark set up to search for Captain America is not sent out, and S.H.E.I.L.D. is still standing, she knows one thing; Captain America has been found. It's only after the alien invasion she knows he's alive. She sets out to see to one last thing. Well, two.</p><p>"You owe me a dance, soldier."</p><p>". . . as you wish."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Dance, For Me

She might not be as good as she once was, she might be forgetful - dementia it's called, and wasn't that lovely, inconvenient is what the blasted condition was - but she knew that face. Of all the things she'd forget, she would never forget the face she'd seen before it'd ever been given form.

Captain America, Steven Grant Rogers. His disappearance - because she and Howard both knew it wasn't death, couldn't be, him being gone had all but broken them both and if he'd genuinely been dead it would've killed Howard and her more surely than any bullet - had hit them hard, and Howard had never stopped looking. It had been an agreement, between the two of them, to set up yearly expeditions to find him. His body, at least, deserved to be buried in American soil, if he were truly dead, though they'd skirted around saying the words aloud. It had been written into S.H.E.I.L.D.'S protocol, and it was irrevocable. The only way that expedition would ever stop would be if the Captain was found or if S.H.E.I.L.D. itself no longer existed.

He was alive, he'd been found. She'd been informed when the teams weren't sent out - she still had her own feelers in the organization she'd founded, of course - and given that S.H.E.I.L.D. was still running, that meant only one thing. He'd been found. Alive, even.

Alive.

She gathered her waning strength - her soul as strong as ever it'd been, but her body was only that of a mortal woman's, and a rather elderly one at that - and talked and bullied her way. She was going to see him, before she died. Her time was coming ever faster, she could feel it in her bones, and she was going to talk to that man before she died. She had some things to say to that stupidly brave man, that would never occur to him on his own. Bucky wasn't around to watch is back, the Howling Commandos were all gone before her. It was just her, now.

And he still owed her something, anyway.

* * *

 After the frankly exhausting battle - with aliens, of all things, at least he wasn't the only one startled by that - Steve Rogers was desperately hoping for some down time. He'd been on his guard since he'd woken up and not relaxed one iota since the deception Nick Fury tried with him. You don't deceive your allies, and given that he had done so without hesitation, Steve very much did not count the man a friend, ally, comrade or anything of the sort. Didn't really have anyone like that, now. He was alone.

He hadn't been stupid before the Serum, and certainly not after. He knew emotional manipulation when it stared at him with one eye. Phil Coulson's death, regrettable, yes, a tragedy to lose what seemed to be a possibly unique combination of spy skills and conscience, but still only one man. Steve had fought in World War II and had, with considerable help, done a damn good job of crippling the enemy. He'd killed, and seen men killed, and it was a miracle the Howling Commandos hadn't lost anyone besides Bucky, even if that one tore at him more than the others would have. They'd been close, yes, shield brothers as Thor called it, but Bucky had been his brother and that would never stop hurting.

He was drifting again. Back to the point, he'd seen what Fury had been doing as soon as he'd done it. All it had done was make him distrust the man even more, and others by extension. Thor hadn't seemed so bad, and Steve suspected he was pretending ignorance on some harmless things just for amusement and let that go on. Couldn't go to him, he'd left with Loki. Clint Barton, Hawkeye, was acting like he'd committed some kind of sin and Steve was Judge, Jury and Executioner. Figure that out later, but a no go for now. Natasha Romanova was too ambiguous for him to put any solid trust in, so he'd take her case-by-case and see what happened. Not her. Bruce Banner was given thought, but the man was too skittish, and Steve could see if Stark didn't haggle him he'd cut and run given half a chance. Steve honestly didn't blame him, if his temper came out as a separate part of him self that went on uncontrolled rampages, he'd leave too. That option was out.

Which left Anthony Edward Stark, Tony, Howard's son. Except, after the way the man had reacted thus far, Steve was absolutely certain if he mentioned Howard in any way relating to Tony he'd blow his top. Howard had been an asshole, yes, and generally more interested in machines than people, but his son took it to new levels. Which took effort, because no one was that much of a perfect jackass without trying for it.

Steve was wary, of course. Natasha and Clint had migrated to the Tower, Bruce seemed to have put his roots down too. He wasn't sure about being around people right now. But when Tony made the offer to move in to the newly dubbed 'Avengers Tower' - the S, T, R and K had all mysteriously fallen off during the invasion, and how convenient was that? Steve was going to be eyeing that huge neon letter side-ways for awhile out of sheer paranoia -, having literally no where else to go and not even the first idea about how to go apartment hunting, he'd accepted.

He wondered if he ought to regret doing so, but when she found him some months later, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Mostly out of blanket relief.

Peggy.

* * *

He looked as young as the day his plane went down. Also utterly poleaxed to see her, and wasn't that flattering, that he could recognize her even when she looked more like his grandmother than someone he'd previously considered for covert activities of the intimate kind.

Howard's son, Tony, was utterly silent still behind him, and a mousy-looking scientist type was hovering behind him nervously. Two S.H.E.I.L.D. employees were very carefully not-reacting to anything. She hadn't been expected even by them, who she recognized as some of S.H.E.I.L.D.'s best. She wasn't as rusty as she'd feared.

" . . . _peggy._ " Steve mouthed, not seeming to have the breath for words. He was shaking lightly, fine tremors running through his large frame. She'd have to fix that, then. As much as she could, in her remaining time.

"Captain." Her tone was one she'd used before, with him when things had been getting intimate in inappropriate places, with so many misbehaving children who'd been masquerading as competent Agents, with so many civilians that had no idea what they'd gotten caught up in. It was one he knew well and remembered, because it was almost yesterday he'd heard her using it with him.

He straightened up minutely, Captain America facing her stoically as ever he did. Steve Rogers might be falling apart inside, but Captain America could not allow weakness. That he'd been doing it here, among what ought to be allies . . . oh, this foolish, courageous, hurting man.

"Agent Carter." His voice was solid and smooth as she recalled, Peggy thought fondly. His shaking had stopped as well. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" His words formal, even as there was the slightest glint of mischief in his impossibly blue eyes.

He'd sauntered slowly forward as he spoke, kneeling easily at her feet as a knight before a queen in her throne, despite her seat being only a motorized wheelchair. She cupped her weathered hands to his youthful cheeks and thought wistfully of the could-have-beens. Their children would've been beautiful, she was certain. Best keep those thought to herself, though, this too-good man was burdened enough already. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents go a whole different kind of still, startled by his move. The mousy man was bug-eyed, and Tony was outright gaping, seeming to be keeping silent by strength of will alone. Good, he had more tact than Howard had.

"Don't you remember, Captain?" She kept her own voice solid as she could, but age made it sound thin and papery anyway. Nothing she could help, and it softened some of the Captain's hard face as well.

"I don't seem to recall. Remind me?" It might have been sure and even, but she knew teasing when she heard it, especially form this man who no one seemed to expect it from. More fool they, she thought. He'd be entertained in the coming days, at least.

"You owe me a dance, soldier. I've come to collect."

Her flesh might be wrinkled and wizened, her strength might be as nothing to even normal man's, she might be as fragile to his enhanced strength as a new born bird, but the fierceness of her gaze hadn't lessened one bit since her younger days. He caved, or rather he'd have caved if he'd ever had thought to deny her in the first place. He was intelligent, he knew damn good and well what she was asking.

This was her last request. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch almost like a cat. Or like someone deprived of friendly contact for a lengthy time. She'd have words with Tony, he seemed to have the best shot at what she had planned, at what Steven needed.

He took her aged right hand in his calloused left gently, ever so gently, kissing is soft as he'd done before, looking up at her through his lashes - seductively, unintentional she was sure, and she was far past the point it would have any effect, though she appreciated the look anyway - as he answered in a whisper, ". . . as you wish."


End file.
